Page 17 of Quake
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Iwasthe classic definition of an overthinker.
On the way to Beat, all I could think about was how I looked, what I would say, what Caleb would think of me, what would he teach me first, what I’d do if I embarrassed myself…then times all that by a billion, and there I was, standing out on the street, a ball of nerves ready to pop.
The roller door was closed tonight, so I pushed gingerly at the side door, testing to see if it was locked or not. It swung in easily, and the now familiar interior of Beat came into view.
The place seemed empty, though all the lights were still on. No one was waiting for a class to start, and those intimidating, tattooed fighters who usually hung around were absent. It was eerie without all the ruckus I’d become used to seeing. Even the radio was switched off.
“Hello?” I called out, my meek little voice sounding loud in the empty studio.
I was just beginning to wonder if I had the right time or not when Caleb emerged from upstairs. He saw me lingering inside the door and clattered down the stairs, striding across the mats to meet me.
“Juliette,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “Hey.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked. “I’m not keeping you… Am I?”
“No classes on Wednesdays,” he explained, ushering me inside and locking the door behind me. “I thought it might be better to start on a night things are quieter around here.”
I began to fidget, my fingers worrying the strap on my bag, and I glanced back at the door.
He frowned at my reaction. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I shook my head awkwardly.
“Greg’s still in the kitchen, and Henrietta and Ahmed are here cleaning the change rooms, so…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t think…”
He nodded and gestured for me to follow him through the studio. “Well then, since you’re already changed, we’ll get started.”
He led me to the spot the self-defense class usually took place and kicked off his trainers, setting them against the wall. He was barefoot, the bottoms of his shorts were sitting mid-thigh, and his chest was covered with a dark gray tank with the Beat logo on the front. His muscles rippled as he swung his arms back and forth, loosening himself up as I set my bag down and took off my runners.
I already felt intimidated just looking at him. What planet were we on? Was the doorway to Beat some kind of inter-dimensional portal to a plain of existence where a guy like that gave a crap about a damaged girl like me?
“When you came here looking for a class, what did you want to achieve?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I muttered, searching for the answer that would placate him.
“Some people take self-defense for general safety, others to work on their confidence, and some to be able to take charge of their lives,” he explained. “You’re new in the city, right?”
I nodded. He must’ve spoken to Tommy about me because I never told him.
“The city can be intimidating,” Caleb went on, prodding me to answer.
“I, uh… A little of everything.” I stared at my feet, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I… Something happened. Back home.” An image of my sister’s bloodied face came to mind, clear and sharp as if she were before me.
“Juliette,” he said, stepping forward.
For a moment, I thought he was going to pull me in for a hug, but he just stood there. He didn’t know me. No one recognized me. I had a different name. A different look.
“It’s just… With everything… You and this place intimidate me.” There. I’d said it. I glanced up.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t want you to feel intimidated.”
“I know… It’s just… It’s been rough these past few years.” I felt my throat tighten, and I closed my mouth, not wanting to speak in case I fell apart. I didn’t want Caleb to see me cry. A big, tough guy like him? No way.
He nodded. “You don’t have to explain. We can work on your confidence, bit by bit. Fast, slow, whatever you need.”
